Of All The Luck
by LiveLoveLyra
Summary: Kim's always been plain and invisible; ignored and ridiculed by her strict mother, and overshadowed by her perfect siblings. But when one lucky glance sends long-time unrequited love Jared her way, everything changes. Is it just lucky coincidence that the boy Kim's loved forever is now crazy for her, or is it fate? Too Good To Be True repost. Kim/Jared
1. Prologue

**A/N: A revised repost of my Too Good to Be True story, which will soon be deleted from the site for reasons explained on my profile. Please enjoy the revised edition, and review at the end, if you please.**

Part One: _Kim_

Liana Callaway-Connweller suffered from the symptoms of having four children, an idiot brother, a wildly reckless and irresponsible sister, one impressionable and introverted niece, one timid and shy nephew who _never _spoke, an irresponsible ladykiller of a "sort-of kind-of but not really brother-in-law", a high-strung shrew of a sister-in-law, a clinically demented grandmother who never _shut up, _an abusive drunk of an ex-husband she half expected to show up and steal away her children one of these days, one friend who hated her sister, one crazy-ass boss who _never _got off her back, a whole bunch of ungrateful clients she had to deal with, and a bunch of other people she'd once liked but no longer had the energy to deal with. Ever.

Motherhood should be a clinical disease, in Liana's opinion, just like sisterhood and parenthood and having nosey neighbors and clingy relatives should, too. _She_ certainly thought it worthy of some sort of prescription medication (and certainly she was allowed to take a healthy dose of alcohol at the end of each day; it was necessary just to _cope_); it was enough to drive any normal person up the wall, considering that _none _of any of these people really bothered to _ever _lift a finger to help her out (_so _ungrateful). After all, _somebody _had to pay the gas and electric and water bills, and get homeowner's insurance and health insurance, and buy school supplies and college tuition funds, and food and take her kids to the dentist, and pay for science programs and soccer training and beauty pageants, and _maybe _look at retirement funds (it was a pipe dream, but she hadn't quite given up on it yet).

Of course, Liana _wasn't _normal; she hadn't been, ever. She was _better, _she was smart and resourceful and determined and talented and beautiful, and if _one mistake _hadn't tied her to _Chad Connweller _and La _fucking _Push for the rest of her life, then the dead-end reservation, her stupid family, and _everybody else _would have been _history, _'cause she was _going _Somewhere. Capital-S _Somewhere_. Not many Rez kids made it there.

Thank _God _her eldest daughter Laura was exceptional, too. She was certainly one of the most beautiful girls on the reservation, prettier than even the Black twins and _maybe _a _little_ less beautiful than Leah Clearwater. Everybody thought so. She could go far with a face like that, people reasoned, and Liana thought that a modeling career was ahead of Laura, should she go to Los Angeles or New York.

And if one were to talk about exceeding all expectations, _well! _Liana could tell you that her youngest daughter Aurora was almost a genius. There was no other word to describe her, what with her taking college-level courses her freshman year online and breaking academic records at La Push High School. Liana _knew _an Ivy League school was simply _screaming _little Rory's name; or maybe Stanford, or MIT…it was a tough call, but, hey, there's always grad school, right? The kid practically had academic scholarships _lined up _for her.

And not to _mention _Liana's youngest kid, Alexander; Rory's twin brother. The athletic prowess of Alex Connweller was _legend _in La Push; the kid had been swinging bats and shooting baskets since he could walk, and whenever Alex tried a sport, he was instantly good at it. He took a bus to Seattle every weekend so he could take part in the elite Olympic Development Program for soccer, all day on Sundays. Colleges were already scouting his games even though he was only a freshman, and if he played the way she knew he was capable of, then he would be _guaranteed _a spot on the under-18 national soccer team.

And then there was _Kimberly. _Liana's mouth always twisted unpleasantly when her second eldest daughter was brought up in a conversation. It was just…

Kim wasn't beautiful like Laura; in fact, she was rather plain.

Kim wasn't smart like Rory; she was studious and worked hard at school, but the girl had to have _some _sort of a social life! She was practically a _hermit. _

Kim wasn't athletic or even _talented _like Alex. She was vanilla; sweet, plain, and _ordinary._

She wasn't going to capital-S Somewhere. She wasn't even destined for getting knocked up in high school and tied to La _fucking _Push. She'd probably grow old, bitter, and alone, work the dusty old library and own ten cats, and die a husbandless…_loser. _Perhaps it was harsh to say of one's child, but it was a harsh, cruel world out there and _somebody _needed to knock that into her daydreamy daughter.

It was pathetic, and Liana's life functioned best when her children could carry their own.

Well, there was a bad apple on every family tree, wasn't there?

**A/N: Thanks for all the support of the (original) readers of Too Good to Be True.**


	2. Of Clay, Boys, and Disappearances

**A/N: Sorry for such a late update...I've been kind of obsessed with _Criminal Minds_ in the meantime. **

_"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves." _

_―_ Federico García Lorca,_ Blood Wedding and Yerma_

October 7, 2005

I never exactly _intended _to become Jared Cameron's personal stalker. I'm serious about that. I mean, spending ten years of your life pining over some guy who miraculously has never acknowledged your existence in a class of less than thirty people with what is possibly the _worst _fangirl crush in the history of gruesome fangirl crushes? Not exactly something one would wish upon oneself, in all honesty. I know it's unhealthy, but Jared is my own personal addiction. I can't function without him—just like my mom goes into a crazed rage or a "constructively criticizing" bout of "X-treme Parenting" if she doesn't have her 'coping glass' of wine that she drinks every night, or my friend Natalie's inability to have a civil conversation without her daily dosage of caffeine, or maybe my brother Alex's meticulously and painstakingly (and thus, highly out of character—as in all other aspects of his life, my brother's a lazy slob) organized routine of sleep, eat, and soccer that _he'd _go apeshit without. And my sister Laura has panic attacks whenever she's not socially connected to her numerous airheaded "popular" friends via her crappy, secondhand cell phone.

(I'm also pretty sure my younger sister Rory has an unhealthy relationship with her _calculus _homework, but who am _I _to remark upon unhealthy relationships? I mean, I went vegetarian for two weeks for a guy who (still) doesn't know I exist. Pathetic, I know, but can we please keep this zone judgement free?)

It must be standard protocol for all pathetic stalkers to remember _every _detail about the day they met the object of (insane) pining and (creepy) obsession. And by every detail, I mean _every. Single. Freaking. Detail. _

See? At least I follow standard stalker principles, right?

_Cough. _Okay, moving on.

It was almost ten years ago, in the spring of my kindergarden year. It's probably one of my earliest memories, to be honest. I still remember it like it was just yesterday, which is true no matter how corny and old I feel saying that. It had happened instantly, like a great wave of emotion overwhelming my six-year-old self (it's a _little_ less pathetic than it sounds, I promise. Just don't quote me on that, though). I had been on the always water-logged wooden playground equipment at the Tribal School, because that day was the first day of sun in a month or so. I was talking with my friend Natalie, who was and still is my best—and _only—_friend, about something dumb and kindergarden-y, like _Sesame Street _or _Cinderella. _

Whilst we were discussing Big Bird with all the seriousness our six-year-old selves could muster, somebody knocked me down. For the life of me, I can't remember who the boy was (I would guess that it was hot-tempered bully Paul Lahote, but he didn't attended Tribal School until he was in the first or second grade), but _that _hardly mattered.

What _mattered _was that _because _whichever ill-mannered kindergardener had knocked me down, my book had gone flying and I'd fallen to the ground, conveniently landing right at the feet of the boy who'd be the star of every knight in shining armor daydream I've had since.

_Jared Cameron._

This part gets kinda cheesy, so brace yourselves. The way I remember it, Jared was like some sort of _angel, _and cheesy at it sounds, he was directly in front of the sun, its light like a halo around his dark, shaggy head. He smiled at _me, _his white teeth contrasting his russet skin and his dark eyes glittering.

"You okay?" He asked _me_, extending out a hand to help me up.

"Y-yeah…" I know, even in kindergarden I was a smooth talker.

I should have my own comedy show, no? Heh, just kidding. I _still _am deemed completely and horrendously illiterate whenever Jared is around. Maybe it's a good thing that he hasn't noticed I exist…

The smartest, and possibly also the dumbest, thing I ever did was take his offered hand. And even now, I can feel the warmth of his hand wrapped around mine. Can you say _desperate? _

He pulled me up to my feet and grinned lazily at me, and I'm _that _much of a loser that my heart "pounded against my ribs like I'd run a thousand miles", if you want to be dramatic like I'm the heroine of one of the cheesy romance novels I most certainly _do not _read. Ever. Heh…Moving on.

"Wouldn't want you to get hurt," Jared said, picking up my book and handing it to me with another smile.

He'd left right after that, running after some kid whose name, in the scope of things, doesn't matter at all. Natalie knocked her elbow into my side and hissed "Stop _staring, _Kimmy" under her breath, but I _couldn't _stop staring after him. It was like being struck by lightning (or something kind of like it that's not fatal) or maybe seeing a unicorn; it was incredible, awe-inspiring, and _fleeting_, and I just _couldn't_ stop thinking about it. Jared Cameron was suddenly taking over my dreams, my thoughts, my daydreams, my conversations, the doodles I absentmindedly drew on the side of my paper… And then I was blushing like an idiot/tomato whenever I saw him, which was _often _considering my eyes always—whether I had wanted them to or not—sought him out. He made my heart jittery, he made me incapable of speech and made my stomach erupt in butterflies.

He hasn't looked at me since.

But _I _couldn't _not _look at him (that probably should have been in the present tense, but whatever). No matter how my obnoxious sisters and stupid brother mocked me, how many times Natalie ranted about the cons of Jared Cameron, how much my mother scolded me. Jared was—_is—_my one happiness in a world I'm not gonna deny I'm not exactly "living the life" in. He still is the warm, golden ray of sunshine breaking through the cloud after months of cold, gray Washington rain.

As creepy and weird as it sounds, I know a lot about Jared. I'm a pretty efficient stalker, if I do say so myself. (Oh, God, I can't believe I just patted myself on the back for good _stalking. Why_ don't I have a life?) I know his favorite fruit (apples), his favorite ice cream flavor (vanilla, weirdly enough), the names of his brothers (Ethan and Jason, and they were both younger), his favorite animal (all things _dog), _his favorite TV show (_Malcolm in the Middle), _the names of his cousins (Hunter, Justin, Savannah; his Uncle Zachary had three stepkids from his wife Ellen's previous marriage, as well.)

Heather, Maya, Conrad.

Yeah. I know their names, too.

Or how he _rarely _ever smiles, and how I counted _two _whole smiles in the three-line conversation we'd had in kindergarden, surrounded by the woodsy scent of the playground and the everlasting green of the La Push trees.

* * *

It just so happened that I was daydreaming about Jared in my art class, which I hate. I've never had a talent for art, particularly, because if I had then surely my mother Liana would have latched onto it and I would've found myself enrolled in art school by the time I was in my sophomore year. My mom's sort of psycho about our "chances" of getting off the Rez or whatever. My older sister Laura's got enough money from beauty pageants (I honestly have no idea how we can _afford _pageants) and good enough looks to be a model in New York or Los Angeles or something; my younger brother Alex is one of those obnoxious athletes who is naturally gifted at sports; and my younger sister Rory is kind of a math/science freak genius. I guess you could say I'm the least favorite because, well…I don't really have any talent, and I'm not brilliant or beautiful. Not anything I can _help, _exactly, but…try telling that to my mom.

My friend Natalie was better at art, although she often loses patience with her artwork and ends up smashing it or something (usually on days when her mom tries to get her on decaf). And then Natalie gets upset about it 'cause her mom will _kill _her if she gets herself sent to the principal's office (again).

So I was _mostly _trying to keep Natalie from losing her shit over the stupid clay sculptures (again) instead of working on my own piece of "art" (I use the term _very _loosely), along with reading _Eldest _by Christopher Paolini. The Forks library finally got it sent in just this Tuesday, even though it'd come out in September or August. I couldn't have bought it at the bookstore 'cause I kinda splurged in July on the sixth _Harry Potter _book.

I eyed my sculpture warily, not liking its misshapen limbs. It was supposed to be a wolf, because _everyone_ in the class seemed to be making a wolf. The old tribal legends and whatnot always "inspired" artwork, although I maintain it was just because my art class as a whole is too lazy to come up with any more interesting animal, and I more or less figured that I didn't want to be the only one with a not-wolf for their sculpture. Natalie, however, didn't go with the flow, ever. She was making a frog, and intended to paint it very colorful so that it would be a poison dart frog for her older brother Jackson. Jackson was currently studying to be a zoologist at U-Dub and wanted to be travel to South America to study the fauna in the Amazon rain forest, and just so happened to be Natalie's second favorite brother of her five. Jackson has always been a bit of a "green freak", to use Natalie's terminology (it's meant affectionately, surprisingly enough).

Natalie had been a bit jumpy all morning, sort of nervous and edgy; this sort of behavior usually meant that she had a secret she was trying to keep from me—and that she was probably close to spilling. Or that she'd had _two _cups of coffee in the morning, but that's irrelevant.

It was then that Natalie brought up the subject that she'd apparently been chafing under. "So…" She used old dentist's tools to hollow out an eye in her frog.

"Yeah?" I added a tail to the wolf, which promptly fell onto the table with a _splat!_

"Y'know my cousin Sabrina? The real gossipy one?" If Natalie was mentioning her cousin Sabrina, whom I _know _Natalie can't stand, then _something _was definitely up. Sabrina Carlton, the eldest daughter of Natalie's mother Josephine's sister Daphne, was one of those gossipy bitches who was seemingly incapable of keeping her freaking nose out of everyone else's business. There's always some sort of family-holiday-gone-wrong horror story every year about Natalie getting into a huge blowout fight with her. They were about as opposite as night and day; Sabrina was a girly-girl obsessed with boys and Natalie was a tomboy who'd grown up the youngest and only girl with five older brothers and liked grunge music and bugs. It was even worse than me and my _own_ sister, Laura, which is certainly saying something. Then again, Natalie (thankfully) doesn't have to deal with her cousin as much as I had to deal with Laura. _Sigh. _

"Yeah…" An image of Jared and Sabrina kissing at last year's winter formal sprang unbidden from the recesses of my mind, but I pushed it—and the sudden surge of jealousy—away. _He's not my boyfriend. He's not mine. Never been mine; wish he was mine… _Is it sad that I had to say that to myself everyday to stop myself from slaughtering Sloan Hammond, Jared's current on-off girlfriend?

I turned the page of my book with enough force that it tore a little.

"Well, I overheard her bitching to your sister in the girls' room today, and she was like 'OM_G, _Laura! You will not BE-_LIEEEEVE _this! This is, like, hotter gossip than when Sydney got, like, knocked up last spring!'" Natalie imitates her cousin in an unintelligent valley girl accent that's too funny _not _to laugh at, and I end up stifling giggles—okay, mostly they were unattractive snorts—under my hand. "'Jared got into, like, an _actual fight! _It was, like, the _totalliest_ ghettoest thing I've, like, ever, like, seen. Like _ever.'" _

Okay, _that _was unexpected. _"_Jared got into a _fight?" _I whisper-shrieked, accidentally squashing my first successful attempt at a tail. You see, as far as hormonal teenage guys go, Jared wasn't particularly _violent. _In fact,he was hardly ever _angry _at all. _Believe_ me, I would know. He was a pretty chill guy, and coming from a crazy-ass family where no one can calm the hell down or shut the hell up, it's one thing about him that I could really, truly appreciate.

"Oh, hells yeah." Natalie chuckled at me, her brown eyes glinting with mischief. Never a good look coming from _her_. "With that Paul kid, y'know?" She went on to explain. "Paul Lahote? It was _so _crazy, Sabrina was saying! All Paul did was just knock into Jared a little—I know, for _once _he wasn't picking a fight—and Jared just _lost it! _Sabrina said they were punching each other on the ground before the principal showed up and had Sam Uley cart Jared away. It's weird, dude."

"Nat, are you _sure _you heard what you heard? Maybe Sabrina was just exaggerating—" Exaggeration was, apparently, a common hereditary trait on the Hewes side of Natalie's family.

"She wasn't, for once; I saw Paul today, and his face was all swollen and purple before his dad had to come take him home. Talk about _awkward." _She laughed at Paul's expense.

_ "_But _Jared?"_

_ "_I know, I thought you'd wanna know. Look, dude, if you don't believe me, interrogate Laura after we get back from work tonight, 'kay?"

I frowned, making my seventh tail and pounding it onto my wolf's butt. Mercifully, it stayed put. "But why _Sam? _Why'd they call _him? _I thought he was on drugs or something." I spun around to face my friend at the horrible thought that had just struck my mind. "Natalie, what if he gets _Jared _into drugs? What about the health effects? It'll ruin his life! Oh my God, who will watch his brothers? What would happen to him? Should I make him a casserole? Oh my God—" Did I mention I was slightly prone to excessive anxiety and melodrama?

"Dude, calm yourself!" Natalie poked me in the arm with a plastic stick used for clay carving. "I _still _don't understand why you care so much about him, anyway, Kim," she sighed, adding indents for the black splotches on her frog. "But if you're _so _worried, I seriously don't think that'll happen. For one, this is La _freaking _Push, the most boring-ass bumfuck of a town as you can _find, _so the _idea _of golden boy Sam "I'm a goody two-shoes who was captain of the chess team and enjoys long, romantic walks along the beach" Uley starting drug culture _here?" _Natalie's eyebrows disappeared under her _"I'm growing them out!" _bangs. _ "_He wasn't captain of the chess team. Do we even _have _a chess team?" I muttered dejectedly. Natalie ignored me.

_ "_Well, I happen to _know _that that's just _not_ gonna happen, 'cause that would at least be _somewhat _exciting and since this is _La Push_,by very _definition _a tiny puddle of _boringness, _there is never _anything _even _somewhat _exciting here beyond some shit-for-brains Leah Clearwater-wannabe slut getting knocked up by their dumb-ass boyfriend. You here that? _Nothing. Is. Ever. Not-Boring. Here. _Sam Uley, Council _god _and ex-Rez golden boy starting a drug cartel _here? _By definition, that's actually fucking _exciting. _Even if I'd rather have a damn movie theater put in so we wouldn't have to drive to Port _fucking _Angeles to see some goddam _Star Wars!" _

_ "_Not to mention the new _Harry Potter _movies," Kim added numbly, staring blankly at the page of her book.

"True, true. I need my Potter fix!" Natalie agreed. "But like I was saying, there's practically a _rule _against us having any _fun _in this town. So I say that Sam Uley will _not _start some drug ring, even if he did dump _Leah _fucking _Clearwater_ and give up that huge-ass scholarship…to be a _handyman _on _steroids_…" Natalie looked like she didn't want to comprehend that sort of logic, and frankly, neither did I. Sam Uley was simply one of those peculiarities on the Rez. "…and start dating _Scarface_…" I frowned angrily at Natalie from over my tailless, malformed wolf. I hated it when Natalie badmouthed Sam Uley's new fiancée Emily Young, cousin and _ex-_close, personal friend of Sam's recent _ex-_fiancée Leah Clearwater. It wasn't that I _liked _Emily, or anything, after she what she did to her cousin. The Emily I had met once before at the Clearwater's house was certainly different than the Emily I imagined would do something like that. So, I guess I didn't dislike her as a _person, _but I certainly _did _dislikeher and Sam _together_. It was a moot point how sweet Emily had been the one time I had met her.

I mean, _come on. _You just _don't _steal the guy your best friend/cousin is going to marry and is head-over-heels in love with. It was against some unspoken rule of sisterhood, and Leah, after all, had always been something that might have been sort of in-the-situation friends with me whenever our parents threw us together at some stupid party thrown with Leah's kid brother Seth and Alex and Rory in mind instead of Leah, Laura, and I. And I, after all, had only met Emily the one time. So, by the merit of prior association, my loyalty lay with Leah.

But still, it's kind of crossing some line to mock Emily for her _scars. _Whatever Emily had done to Leah, _nobody_ deserved to be _mauled _by a fucking_ bear_ outside of their home. The scars were _real _bad, according to my brother Alex, who had seen them when Seth had dragged him to see Emily in the hospital after the accident (Seth was firmly Team Leah, but he'd still gone to see his cousin, even if it was a "top secret" operation). The scars, which, according to Alex and popular rumor, were three long, puckered claw marks running from her temple to her waist, and on her arm, too. They'd ruined Emily's delicate beauty on the left side of her face and torso.

I had hit the back of Natalie's head when she'd whispered "_Karma…" _under her breath while Laura gushed about last year's "latest juice"—which just happened to be that Leah Clearwater's cousin/the girl that Sam Uley was stalking had gotten "like, randomly _torn apart _by this, like, bear thing", to quote Laura. I would defend Emily for what she couldn't control, like how her face looked after a bear attack that she hadn't asked for.

I hadn't ever defended her when she was called homewrecker, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"All right, sorry, you know I didn't _mean _it." Natalie mollified quickly, holding her hands above her shoulders in mock surrender. She lowered them back to her frog once I had turned what I hoped was a disapproving scowl at my disfigured little wolf. "But _Leah _for _Emily? _That's a fucked up trade, Kim."

"I guess…" I attempted to reattach the lumpy, soggy piece of clay that was _supposed _to be my wolf's tail.

"Yeah, Jared wouldn't go for that shit. 'cause, well, as much as it pains me to admit it…" Natalie glanced around nervously, like she was about to say something incredibly taboo. "_Jared'sagoodguy. _There!" Natalie smacked her palm onto the table in to show the finality of her statement. "I said it, and I'll _never _say it again. Ever." Natalie shook her head like she was trying to dispel an unpleasant thought, her eyes screwed shut.

"What?" I asked, my wolf's tail splattingon the table again.

Natalie sighed, grimacing like it literally _pained _her to say what she was about to say. "Well…you know I think this whole Jared situation is unhealthy. I mean, _kindergarden? Really? _But anyway, as an _objective _third party with absolutely _no _personal interest in the matter, Jared's a…_not-bad _person, y'know. He plays with his little brothers and defended Carly Shultz, you know, that Forks slut, when Paul said she was shit in the sack. Probably because he was banging her on the side, but, it's the _principle _of the thing, right?"

"Jared doesn't _bang _people like Carly!" I protested, because I liked to turn a blind eye to all of Jared's sexual conquests.

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. You know what it'll get you?" Natalie didn't wait for an answer, and instead plowed on. "A job cleaning up shit after fucking idiot tourists at the resort while taking care of a baby on the side while he enjoys a Camaro and a hot girlfriend. Probably Lebanese or something."

I eyed Natalie wryly, reforming the soggy clay of the tail. "You watch _How I Met Your Mother _too much, Nat_. _You got the hots for Neil Patrick Harris, huh?_"_

_ "_Don't be knockin' on my main _squeeze, _baby. Neil is the _man. _Even if he _does _play for the other team…but you best be believin' it, girl." Natalie grinned, winking wolfishly at her, and I couldn't help but giggle a little. She sobered up quickly though, classic Rez brown eyes looking at me intently with what appeared to be concern and a little carelessly disguised amusement.

_"_But Kim, dude, what I'm trying to say is…well, Jared's not exactly the type for drugs n' stuff, right? Even if he _has _gone, y'know, _wack._" Natalie winked at me with the last statement, and my lips involuntarily quirked upwards in a semblance of a smile.

"I guess so…" I agreed. Splat went the tail again.

"Dude, you aren't just lumping the clay together, right? 'cause it won't stay, and it'll get air bubbles and _blow up _in the kiln and _destroy _everybody's little clay thingamabobs…Oh my _god, _Kim, you _are!_ Mrs. Jones just went over it _ten times, _Kim, come _on! _See, you would _know _this if you hadn't taken a one-way ticket to Crazyville on the Jared Cameron Express, dude." Natalie rushed over to my station, constructing a semi-wolflike tail and, adding water and a few squiggly lines, attached it _seamlessly _to the main wolf body. I scowled.

Jared was still acting weird, and _Natalie's _tail didn't go _splat._

* * *

I'm not sure if the gods truly hate me or whatever, but they sure do like to fuck with me a lot, for whatever reason.

One of these practical jokes that the good ol' Man Upstairs had played on me was that Jared sat _right next _to me in English. As in, six inches away from me for an entire _hour _four days a _week, _all six feet and one inch of lean, wiry Jared Cameron and his shaggy hair and big hands and his leg which sometimes brushed mine…

Luckily, English was my best subject, so I could catch up on what I missed in class at home and still get an A. Jared-watching was an important job, and literally it was the only thing keeping me from dying, seeing as it was the second period of the day, far enough into the day for sleep to be improbable and far enough from lunch to be hopeless.

But there was, as Natalie had said, no Jared.

English sucked.

So did Geometry, incidentally. And Chemistry and Spanish and Tribal Studies and Art and US History and Gym, too.

Basically all my classes sucked except for Lunch and Study Hall, 'cause at least then I could read a book.

But still, English was the worst, because for an entire hour I was forced to stare at Jared's empty seat and pity myself and work myself up into a frenzy over his safety.

Oddly enough, I wasn't the only one talking about Jared. It was like he'd fallen off the face of the earth. His dad didn't know where he was—which I knew because I'd brought his English work home to him; Jason and Ethan were clueless (as usual); Sloan, Jared's 'girlfriend', was hysterical over it, and was convinced he'd been abducted by aliens; neither my sister nor Sabrina seemed to know, and they both knew _everything _about _everyone; _none of Jared's cousins or step-cousins, relatives or friends had a clue. Of course, many people had developed theories as to where he'd disappeared to.

One popular theory was Sloan's: alien abduction, which was stupid.

Another was that he'd been kidnapped. Unlikely, but possible.

Another one was that he'd been eaten by sharks and all they'd find of his body were some bloody chunks, which was not only stupid but also pretty nasty.

Then there was the one that Paul had caught up with him and murdered him, which didn't make sense if you knew that Jared had walked away from that fight unscathed and Paul had walked away with a busted up face.

When Paul disappeared within the week after a fight with some idiot girl he'd dumped, that theory was toast.

My personal theory was that Sam Uley had something to do with it. I mean, didn't Sam cart Jared away when he went apeshit on Paul? Yes. And, besides that, it mirrored Sam Uley's own disappearance almost a year and a half ago. I hoped this wasn't true, but nothing _else _made any sense whatsoever. If Sam was getting Jared involved in drugs, I didn't know. Probably find a nice rock to crawl under and die or something.

Whatever it was, something was up in La Push. Sam, Jared, Paul. Paul, Jared, Sam.

Something was definitely going on, and if I weren't me, I'd probably say something ominous and cool, like "and I'm gonna find out what it is or die trying!" Then again, if I were that person instead of _me, _I probably would have spoken two words or _more _to Jared, and then maybe he wouldn't be gone, and maybe my heart wouldn't hurt quite so badly.

Except I _am _me, Jared is _still_ missing, and my heart is still broken.

**A/N: First attempts at first person POV, so bear with me. Review/Comment, please. Have a great Summer/Start of School!**


	3. Of Bubblicious, Waffles, Mice and Men

**A/N: Sorry for the long update time. On the bright side: went to see _Perks of Being A Wallflower. _I highly recommend it, and the book. **

**Review, please!**

"Being in love with someone who doesn't even know you exist isn't the worst thing in the world. In fact, it's quite the oppostie. Almost like passing in a term paper that you know sucked, but having that period of time where you haven't gotten your grade back yet - that kind of exhale where you haven't been rejected, although you pretty much know how it's going to turn out." ― Tonya Hurley, _Ghostgirl_

October 28, 2005

You'll never guess where I am. Seriously. You won't. You would never guess.

Okay, here goes. I'm on a beach. First Beach beach, in fact, at sunset. The world was bathed in orange-pink light, and the ocean was _amazing. _It was a place for romance.

Which was why I was with _Jared._

And it wasn't even a dream!

"Kim, we've been dating for a long time…" said Jared, looking a bit nervous. God, he was gorgeous…

"…yes?" Oh my god, was he going to break up with me? Oh my God!

"So, I just wanted to ask you…" he trailed off, fumbling for something in his pocket. He smiled briefly when he'd located it. He exhaled, nodded to himself, and looked up at me. "Kim Connweller. You are the most wonderful girl I've ever met. I'll never find a girl I could ever love more than I love you. So, Kim," he knelt down, and opened the little box. Nestled inside was a r-ri-_ring. _"Will you marry me?"

"Oh my God._" _I shrieked, staring down at the little black velvet box in his hand. "Oh, _Jared!" _I yelled again, staring at the man before me—who was _proposing to me_! With an _actual _ring! Holy shit!

"Yes, yes, yes!" I shrieked, doing the whole smiling-while-crying thing that girls do when their boyfriends propose in movies and stuff. He smiled widely—his smile is so _rare—_and I flung my arms tightly around his neck, crying happily and smiling at the same time, careful not to dislodge the velvety ring box still clutched in his hands. I could feel his happy smile against my neck, and _God, _I wanted to kiss him—

"_What the—_Kim, get _off _me!" A hand came out of nowhere, shoving me away from Jared and the sunset and the beach and onto a cold hardwood floor. I blinked rapidly, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit, obnoxiously pink room. It was like a unicorn _barfed _everywhere…all rainbows and those obnoxious stuffed teddy bears that say stupid shit like 'I love you _beary_ much!' and _sparkles…_okay, the sparkles were okay, but I was in "little girl world" overload. Pink bunny sheets, purple sparkly comforter, shiny pink Hello Kitty curtains… In fact, the only things that really evidenced that a teenager lived in that very room were the dirty clothes strewn everywhere, the mess of random papers littering the ground along with candy wrappers, a banana peel, and—was that _chewed-up _gum stuck under the chair? _What the…_Where was I? God, don't you hate mornings like that, where you have _no freaking clue _where you are and you're all disoriented and shit—

Oh my God. Pink room. Morning. No Jared.

Crap. It _was_ a dream.

That was Bubbalicious gum under the chair.

Chewed up Bubbalicious bubble gum stuck under furniture only meant one thing: I was at Natalie's. And, as I've said, she's a freaking bear in the morning before she has her coffee.

"God, were you trying to _strangle _me or something? What the hell?" Natalie demanded of me once she had woken up enough to actually converse. It was after we'd gotten dressed, on our way down the stairs of Natalie's spacious house to the kitchen where (Natalie hoped) her mother was making banana pancakes.

"No! I was—I was—just, you see—"

"Oh my God. _Kim." _Natalie turned to me suddenly, a look of horror on her face. "You had that proposal dream again! _Ew! _Was I Jared? Holy crap, I never thought I'd say _that…"_

_ "_Yes! No…what?"

"Kim, seriously, he's been gone for, like, a _year, _so just, let it go, okay? Odds are he hightailed it outta here and is dead in a ditch somewhere. Maybe he got murdered by a freaky-ass serial killer or something. This is your intervention." Natalie inhaled sharply. "It is _never _going to happen. Okay? He's an idiot, he's kind of mean, he's had a ton of girlfriends—"

"Two," I corrected glumly. Natalie ignored me and steamrolled on.

"Kim! Face it. You're _not soul mates_!"

"We _are!" _We've cleared that I'm delusional, right?

"You aren't 'meant to be together'!" Natalie shouted, using a high-pitched voice—eerily like her cousin Sabrina's—on the 'meant to be together' bit.

"I know, I know, but, Natalie…I—I _love _him!" I insisted.

"But he doesn't love _you, _Kim, and he _never _will! God, just grow up, Kim!"

I flinched away from her reflexively, my eyes stinging. Natalie blinked, like she couldn't believe she'd actually told me that. Her brown eyes were wide with something that looked like regret. She squared her jaw and didn't look away from my eyes; she still stood by what she had said.

"Natalie!" The loftily shrill voice of Natalie's mother called through the closed door of the kitchen. "_Natalie Lisa Wright, _I swear, if you're not up—" The door banged open, Mrs. Wright standing in the doorway.

Natalie's mother was a woman of forty years old. She wasn't beautiful, what with her rounded face and pointy nose, and she clearly hadn't ever been, but she looked like something sweet that'd been left out in the sun and was suddenly all sour and gross. I guess having six kids (including _Natalie_) would do that to a person. I mean, she had _five sons! _She had twins, and then another set of twins, and then another boy, and _then _she had Natalie. She had _five _kid under the age of _three: _Jeremy, Jordan, Jeffrey, Jackson, and Jonathan. (Nat's mother's name is Josephine, so I guess that's where the whole J-name thing comes from; yeah, not exactly my taste either, but…to each, his own, right?) I mean, Mrs. Wright's my Aunt Renata's age, but my free-spirit aunt has always seemed a _lot _younger than Mrs. Wright.

And I'm just guessing, here, 'cause I don't know from experience or anything, but generally, becoming a grandmother at 35 isn't in most people's life plans. I mean, Mrs. W had Nat's brother Jeremy when she was eighteen and when _he _was seventeen he knocked up a girl from the Makah rez, Leah Clearwater's second cousin and Emily Young's sister, Hannah. That was five years ago; their shotgun wedding was in April of their senior year of high school and by the next Christmas they were divorced. As far as I know, Hannah has full custody of their daughter Violet because Jeremy left soon after the divorce and hasn't really had any contact with Hannah, Natalie, or anyone since he ran off to college beyond the odd Christmas card and child support check. It was all really hushed up, and Violet is called Violet Young instead of Violet Wright. Natalie says that her dad pretends that Hannah is a friend's daughter instead of his ex-daughter-in-law (not untrue; Hannah and Emily's Quileute mother, Kiara, was close friends with Mr. and Mrs. Wright in high school; she's also Paul Lahote's paternal aunt, believe it or not…it's kinda weird how we're all connected, but whatever) and treats Violet like…nothing at all, really; Natalie says that he likes Claire, Hannah's younger daughter with her Makah boyfriend, better than he does Violet, his own granddaughter. As far as Mr. Wright is concerned, Jeremy doesn't have a daughter and is still the perfect son; I know this really bothers Natalie and Mrs. Wright, but Mr. Wright is home so rarely it doesn't really matter too much to me what he thinks about his son and his love child.

But whatever.

Natalie's dad_, _Evan Wright, is some sort of big shot lawyer guy. (I know, weird, right?) He now works out of a law firm in Seattle, and has a condo there he stays in over the weekdays. He's technically supposed to come home on the weekends, but he's kind of a workaholic and never really leaves Seattle. I honestly think they're secretly divorced or something, because as long as I've known Natalie, I think I've only seen her dad twice. Natalie talks about him a lot; she kind of idolizes him.

(You're probably wondering how on _earth _someone who had a baby at eighteen in a deadbeat town like La Push could ever be a big shot _anything. _I know, I was wondering that too, but the answer is this: Mr. Wright's half-white, and the white side of his family were _real rich _off a huge-ass lumber company they had out of Forks. Mr. Wright used his inheritance to sell the company and go to law school, all the while supporting Mrs. Wright and their growing brood.)

"I'm _right here_, Mother!" Natalie snapped at her mother. Mrs. Wright jumped, seeming to suspect that Natalie was ill; the only plausible reason for Natalie to be up so early of her own free will. Natalie didn't notice; she was too busy being annoyed at having been interrupted in the middle of her anti-Jared tirade.

"Hi, Mrs. Wright. How are you?" I smiled weakly, blinking away the sudden tears that Natalie's early morning grumpiness-driven outburst had invoked. Natalie herself sighed loudly, like she knew I'd never get the whole_ Jared-is-just-not-into-you-so-you-should-just-get-over-it-already _thing.

I think we both know that I'll never get the _Jared-is-just-not-into-you-so-you-should-just-get-over-it-already _thing.

Mrs. Wright blinked in surprise. At first I thought it was because I looked like I was about to cry, or that Natalie looked incredibly guilty, but then I figured, this is Natalie's _mother; _she's just so unused to pleasantries at seven in the morning that she's shocked I didn't give her the finger. Frankly, with her living in the same house as a pre-coffee Natalie, I could understand that. "Kim, you spent the night?" Oh. She was surprised I was at her house. On the affirmative, she rounded on Natalie. "Young lady, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD FRIENDS OVER? ARE YOU _TRYING _TO MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A TERRIBLE HOSTESS?" You know how over-exaggeration is a hereditary trait on the Hewes side of Natalie's family? Well, voices so loud they could be used as communication with alien life forms on Mars is another one of them.

"YOU DON'T NEED _MY _HELP TO DO _THAT! _YOU DO THAT ALL ON YOUR _OWN, _MOM!"

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK, NATALIE LISA WRIGHT, OR I'LL—"

"IT'S JUST _KIM, _MOM, SHE'S OVER HERE, LIKE, _EVERY DAY. _GOD, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO FREAK OUT ABOUT _EVERYTHING?"_

_ "How are you today, Mrs. Wright!" _I attempted shouted over them; it was kind of feeble, but…whatever.

Both Wright women blinked at me. Clearly, they'd forgotten I was there.

"I'm fine, thank you, Kimberly dear. And yourself?" Mrs. Wright's ability to go from crazed, shouting madwoman/mother to painfully pleasant and irritatingly polite hostess was disconcerting, to say the least.

"God, Kim, don't make nice with my _mother, _she's so—" Natalie seemed intent to forget our shouting match over Jared—it certainly wasn't the first, but she'd never gone so far as to say something like _he doesn't love you, and he never will. _I mean…I'm _allowed _my weird addiction, but God, wouldn't it be easier if I were addicted to coffee, or alcohol, or routines, or texting, or even—God forbid—_calculus _homework (shudder) instead of an actual _person?_

"Finish that sentence, Natalie, and I _swear—" _Mrs. Wright snapped at her daughter.

_ "_Mom, has Jonathan called to talk to me yet, he said we would—" Natalie ignored it like she wasn't being scolded.

"Natalie, are you wearing _cologne_?"

"_What? _Kim, you told me that was _perfume!" _Oh…I guess Natalie yelling at me about my whole Jared-obsession-thing was karma for tricking her into putting on cologne…

"Waffles or pancakes?"

"Where's Dad?"

"He's in Sacramento on business, but no, Johnny hasn't called, as a matter of fact—"

"What! Jackson says Johnny calls _him _every day!"

"Don't change the _subject, _Natalie, clean your room!"

"Mom, Kim's over, I can't _clean my room!"_

_ "Waffles_ or _pancakes, _Natalie! Choose!"

"We hear from _Hannah _every day and she isn't even _related_ to us!"

"She's Jeremy's ex-wife, and the mother of my granddaughter."

"Why is Dad in Sacramento, anyway?"

"Jordan's bringing his new girlfriend home for Thanksgiving, her name's Charlotte, I think, or maybe it's Gretchen…"

"Mom, do you have any smoothies?"

"I didn't offer any smoothies, Natalie, quit being ungrateful!"

"_Josephine…."_

_ "_For the last time, _quit calling me Josephine!"_

_ "_But it's your _name, _isn't it?"

"I'm making pancakes," Natalie's mother sighed and turned away, grumbling something like 'I wanted to stop after _two _kids'.

"Kim likes blueberry."

"Blueberry it is," answered Mrs. Wright loudly, turning back into the kitchen, with us following her.

Natalie and her mother could go on like that for _hours. _I don't understand how they do it, to be honest, all that interrupting and subject changing and general rudeness… I mean, _really, _how do they even keep track of the conversation? They jumped from Natalie's brothers to Natalie's room to Natalie's father to Natalie's behavior to Natalie's breakfast in fifteen-seconds _flat. _

My family isn't in sync at all. In fact, I'm still maintaining that I'm secretly adopted.

(Personally, I think my mom is banking on a mix-up at the hospital after she read an article about people finding out about a switch at the hospital in their fifties, but like I said: not in sync)

"So, Kimmy _dearest_," said Natalie in a mimic of her mother's 'perfect housewife' voice. This earned her a glare from Mrs. Wright as she placed a full to the brim coffee mug in front of her daughter, but Natalie was so used to that sort of thing that she didn't care (personally, Mrs. Wright can rival my mother with glares—it must be a conspiratorial Mom thing). "Since I've come to the conclusion that you _weren't_ actually having a dream about strangling me—"

"I dream about that_ all _the time."

"So do I, actually!" chipped in Mrs. Wright helpfully. Natalie glared at her from behind her coffee mug.

"Child abuse! Kim, do you _see _what I have to _deal _with here?" I shrugged neutrally at her. Natalie plowed on, seeing that she wasn't getting any response. Natalie sobered up slightly. "Look, Kim, maybe I was a little harsh—"

"You were," agreed Natalie's mother.

"_Mom! _Butt out!" Natalie yelled. Mrs. Wright went back to stirring pancake mix into a bowl with an eyebrow-raised sign of surrender. "Okay, as my mother has _said, _I was a _little _harsh, but Kim, seriously…he's been AWOL, and you can do _better _than Jared _Cameron." _Natalie rolled her eyes when I looked at her disbelievingly. _"_I mean, come _on_. He's kind of an _idiot._" She felt bad; she was trying to combat her guilt with humor as only Natalie could.

I couldn't help but smile weakly at her. "But seriously…aren't you even a _little _bit worried?" The opportunity to freak out about Jared's current MIA status was too great for me to resist. "I mean, he's been gone for three _weeks! _As in 21 days! Three weeks! Three _entire _weeks, Natalie!"

"So you've said, honey," Mrs. Wright chipped in. I felt my cheeks warm, my eyes sliding to the elegantly finished tabletop. God, did I really talk so much that _Mrs. Wright _knew what I was going to say before I'd said it?

"Yes," Natalie put in, poking at the flowery centerpiece at the center of their breakfast table. Like almost everything in Natalie's house, including the people, it was over the top—there must have been a _hundred_ fake autumn leaves in it.

"Kim, darling, I'm _sure _he's fine. I knew his daddy a long time ago, and I used to be friends with his aunt Fran—that reminds me, I should call her…"

"Mom, _again: _If you're going to butt in, at least have a _point."_

_ "_Oh, hush, Natty," Mrs. Wright dismissed her, trying to remember what she'd been saying. Natalie scowled.

"Yes, hush, ickle _Natty," _I sniggered at her. She glared.

"Oh yes!" Mrs. Wright remembered. "Sean and Fran are a good bunch, real hardy. He's probably fine," she reassured me. She flipped a couple of pancakes seamlessly and bacon sizzled in the pan. "Unless he's like that mother of his, there's really no problem."

"His _mother?" _Okay, remember how I said I knew _everything _about Jared Cameron? Yeah. Apparently that was false.

"Yes. Cora was her name, real lovely, real delicate. She was always kind of fragile, and having those Cameron boys must've been too much for her. Kind of frail, especially towards the end. I think Sean was trying to get her help, and she didn't want it, and he loved her too much to really protest. Sad thing, that." Mrs. Wright shook her head as if trying to rid herself of a burdensome fly. "Well, moving on! Breakfast!"

She moved around the breakfast table, two plates stacked with pancakes perched on her thin arms. She placed one in front of me and I ravenously grabbed my fork and knife and dove into the blueberry bliss that were Mrs. Wright's pancakes.

"_Pancakes! _Come _on, _Mom, I told you I wanted _waffles!"_

* * *

_"_So, Kim, I think Henry Hobber was checking you out in Gym," Natalie said conversationally as she drove us to school in her Jeep Wrangler. It'd been a "sorry I'm missing your birthday again" present. Technically Nat's not old enough to drive, but no one really gives a fuck around here, since the only cop's Charlie Swan and his deputy, and they hang around his station up in Forks most of the time.

Natalie got a lot of those.

"Henry _Hobber? _Natalie, you _do _know who that is?" I exclaimed. Henry Hobber was the class geek. He was even geekier than me and quirkier than Natalie, which is saying something. Plus, he's really gross and only about three feet tall.

"Okay, it's _true, _but it was feeble. Just…anybody who isn't J—"

"_Jared, _I know," I grumbled. Natalie glanced at me before returning her eyes to the road.

She let out a sigh. "You're pretty, Kim," I snorted at this, and she rolled her eyes. "It's _true, _and you could get any guy who _isn't _Jared effing Cameron. Besides, Kim, there's a whole _world _out there! There're other fish in the sea, and they come in more than one flavor than _Cameron-trout."_

She pulled into a parking space and we hopped out, into the pouring rain, holding our backpacks over our heads and sprinting for the shelter of La Push High.

"You know," Natalie said, shaking water droplets from her long black hair. "Let's do that."

"Do what?"

"You. Me. Hot outfits. Port Angeles. Club. Dancing. Drinking. Males. This Friday." She smiled widely at me, pleased with herself coming up with such a 'brilliant idea'.

"Nat, _no. _You cannot even _fathom _the trouble I'd be in with my mom if I—"

"Oh, puh-lease, we'll take freaking Laura and Leah, too, I guess, but she'll be a real downer. God, that chick needs to move the fuck _on, _already! _Jesus!" _She exclaimed, and I chuckled a little as we began to walk towards our lockers. "We _do _need a way to get past the bouncer."

"Yeah, the double-L will do it for you," I agreed. Leah and Laura, or double-L or L-squared as they were commonly called, were both young, hot, up for a party, and best of all, _eighteen. _They could get past _any _bouncer with the power of L.

"Yep. Shit, dude, we're late," and we rushed off to first period, dragging dripping backpacks and showering the hallway in water, all thoughts of Jared Cameron and L-squared gone from our minds.

* * *

As usual, Art sucked. My sculpture, surprise, surprise, one me a C-. Natalie got an A for 'originality', which I guess comes from being the only person in class to _not _make a wolf.

And Henry Hobber's sculpture blew up in the kiln, and unfortunately, mine wasn't there to be shattered with it.

We were moving on to paper mach, now.

Kill me.

So it was with a gloomy disposition and a negative attitude that I trudged over to English, prepared for another class on analyzing the symbolism of the rabbit dream in _Of Mice and Men_when I heard it.

A whisper.

"_I heard he's back, and he's on hard drugs."_

How the fuck do you even get hard drugs in La Push, anyway? I rolled my eyes discreetly at Stephanie Morris, the gossiper.

"He's on steroids. They're mining them out in the national park," Sabrina Carlton was incapable of being subtle, or even _quiet. _And I'm pretty sure you don't _mine _steroids.

"I can't wait until Paul and I fuck again. He was _alright _before, but with _those _muscles…" God, my sister was too sexually forward for my sanity!

"Laura, you _moron," _snapped Leah Clearwater, because you can't have L2 with out L1 nearby, "steroids _shrink _guys' _balls."_

_ "_Oh." Laura looked disgusted. "Gross."

"Yeah. It's probably just as well _that bitch _has _that dick _you know? He's probably _miniscule," _she meant Sam and Emily of course. Everything with Leah was. For someone who claimed to want _nothing whatsoever _to do with them, she certainly talked about them a lot.

_Wait. _Hold the flipping phone. _Paul Lahote _is back?!

That means—that—Jared—

"Get in class, weirdo, you're holding up the line!" Stupid Cole Abrams shoved his way past me into English.

_English!_

I sprinted into the classroom like a madwoman, racing to my usual seat to find its counterpart…empty. No Jared to be seen.

Fuck my life.

I felt like bursting into tears and crying until I drowned in them, so deep was my despair.

(I should be a poet, no?)

Hahahaha _no. _

I yanked my binder and my beat-up old copy of _Of Mice and Men _from my (still) sopping wet backpack with force they probably didn't deserve, but…whatever.

I glanced at the empty seat again, and sighed. The minutes ticked by _slowly, _like time had gotten stuck in syrup as Mrs. Latimer droned on and on about things outgrowing their usefulness, which, apparently, was symbolized by the shooting of Candy's old dog in _Of Mice and Men. _Like I cared.

The door opened suddenly, about halfway through class, and nearly everyone jerked awake from the Latimer Lecture-induced stupor with surprised exclamations. Henry Hobber actually fell off his chair in fright, the pussy.

Or maybe not a pussy, because the guy standing in the doorway was _huge. _Fucking _ginormous. _Titanic, mountainous, hulking, immense, monumental, enormous, gigantic, colossal, mammoth, elephantine.

Okay, not _that _big, but good _golly _he must have been related to the Hulk or something.

I'm legit serious about that.

"Mr. _Cameron?" _ Mrs. Latimer exclaimed suddenly after squinting and titling her head to the side. We all followed suit, and found that if you squinted your eyes and tilted your head, the guy in the doorway might vaguely resemble a distant relative of Jared Cameron's.

"Sorry I'm late, Mrs. Latimer," he said solemnly, and he began to make his way towards the back. Towards _me. _

Holy FUCK JARED CAMERON SITS NEXT TO ME AND HE REALLY IS ON HARD DRUGS BUT OH MY GOOD GOLLY GUMDROPS HE GOT EVEN _HOTTER _AND I THINK I'M ABOUT TO JUMP HIM—

Whoa. That was a startling thought process. Startling, but true.

Still, Jared sat down next to me like he hadn't just gained thirty pounds of muscle and two feet in height and missed three weeks of school. The chair creaked as he sat down, and for a second I thought it'd give way. It didn't.

Oh my God, I was _staring! _Blatantly ogling him. I whirled back to my copy of _Of Mice and Men _and pretended to be fascinated by the hooks on my binder.

"Well, Mr. Cameron, due to your long absence, I'm afraid you'll have some catching up to do. I'll give you a copy of _Of Mice and Men _after class, but for now, use Miss Connweller's copy. And just copy her notes later, I don't have the _time _to catch you completely up, you'll have to do some of it on your own, Mr. Cameron. But I'm sure Miss Connweller will be happy enough to oblige you for today."

Mrs. Latimer went back to the themes of the book without another word, so I just slid my binder and my book across the desk towards him, trying not to blush like a tomato at his close proximity and _lethal _hotness. I mean, like _literal _hotness. Did he had a fever or something still? 'Cause I could, you know, play the whole sexy nurse gig and nurse him back to health. I'm down with that. And I make a killer chicken noodle soup, just saying.

"Do you have a pen?" At first, I didn't realize that the fucking _God _next to me was talking to _me, _but then it became apparent when nobody else had looked around.

"Oh, y-y-yeah," I stuttered, rummaging feverishly through my pencil case. I found a pen, a blue gel pen, and turned around the face him, _praying _my face wasn't a tomato. I extended the pen, and as his _huge _hand came up to close around the suddenly ridiculously small pen, our eyes met.

And it was like stars colliding. Not fireworks. No. It was _more _than that, like the world was suddenly _perfect _and _whole _now that _Jared _was here, and he was looking at me, and being Jared. I could have stared at him all day, but—

Back to work. I turned back to my work, but I could see that Jared hadn't moved an inch since I'd moved. I glanced up at him; he was still staring.

Back to work.

I glanced again; he was _still _staring.

I added something about Lennie needing 'mercy'.

He was still staring. _Still. _With this expression on his face like I'd hung the moon, which I hadn't, just so you know.

I wanted to say something like, _I know I'm the sexiest girl alive, but please, stop staring. While I find it flattering, you're only drawing unwanted attention to me._

Instead, I said something like: "W-w-why are you l-l-looking at m-me like that?"

Smooth.

He blinked, and then a blinding grin—I know, _Jared _smiling? What the fuck?—spread across his face. He stuck out his hand eagerly and said, "I'm Jared."

"I know," I said, and took his hand. It was probably the smoothest thing I'd said all my life. He looked a little hurt, maybe because he'd never known that I _existed _before now and yet I knew every insignificant little detail about him, so I added: "I'm Kim. Kim Connweller."

"_Kim." _He repeated, like he was trying out it sounded in his mouth. "_Kim." _He repeated, and another grin spread across his face. I smiled back.

I liked the way he said my name.

**A/N: Thanks for all alerters and reviewers. I love you all.**


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